


Of Eternal Breath

by FullmetalChords



Category: Masquerada: Songs and Shadows (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Intimacy, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9402206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/pseuds/FullmetalChords
Summary: The night after the Golden Canvas, Cicero offers comfort to Kalden while struggling with his own feelings.--Originally posted on my Tumblr under the title "Day 3, After Midnight". Some slight editing has also happened to make this a bit more canon-compliant.





	

The others had long ago headed off to bed, but Cicero Gavar stayed back at the table, remembering.

Razitof Azrus. The man who had saved his life. The person who had, indirectly, brought him back to the Citte, with all its backstabbing, secrets, and painful memories. But the memories floating to the surface now felt peaceful, almost trivial, shining details rescued from the mire of his past. A piece of parchment covered in both their handwriting, Raz’s steady hand crossing out the mistakes Cicero had made in his chickenscratch. His brilliant smile when he’d heard that Cicero had passed his examinations.

Razitof’s back as he put himself before Cicero and the Luca, begging them to spare his life. Turning to look back at him with those desperate, bespectacled brown eyes.

Eyes just like Kalden’s.

But those eyes had shut forever, now.

Cicero’s hands wound together, knuckles pressing against his lips as he leaned forward. _Lucia_. She’d plotted this from the start, plucking him from drunken oblivion in the Kevali Fields, sending him on a wild goose chase to find a man she’d already killed. _Why_? What were her plans for the Citte? What were her plans for _him_?

He’d thought, after so many years alone, that he had no one, and nothing, in his life left to lose. But Lucia’s threats against his companions had shown he was wrong there as well.

There was an enormous crackle as the log in the fireplace split, spitting sparks into the air. Cicero tore his eyes from it, making to stand up. Today had felt unbearably long. The worst of it was knowing that it was far, far from over, that there would be no opportunity for time to work its magic on this fresh wound, the gaping hole in the world where Razitof used to be. Not yet.

He started to make his way down the hall to his chamber, but stopped as he caught sight of a large shadow, hunched over on the bench.

“Kalden?”

The figure straightened, hurriedly turning its face from the fire that still burned low.

“C-Cicero.” He saw the Mariner hurriedly wipe his eyes. “Forgive me, it seems… it seems I have not shed enough tears for one day, just yet.”

“It’s all right,” Cicero reassured him, empathy and concern flooding him. “Kalden…”

But his words stopped there. Not for lack of wanting to, but… he’d never been very _good_ at this sort of thing. He remembered earlier, at the bazaar, how Amadea had flung herself into his arms, how freely he’d offered her words of comfort. Was it truly so different, so much more difficult, to do the same for Kalden?

He ended up putting his hand on Kalden’s shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze.

“I’m so sorry that I couldn’t bring him back to you,” he said softly, unable to hold back his own surge of emotions.

Kalden drew a deep, shaky breath before putting his hand atop Cicero’s.

“You tried,” he murmured. “We all tried.” He looked up at Cicero then, those deep brown eyes looking at Cicero as though he might offer some kind of answers. Cicero wondered what the questions were.

“Ven might still be up,” he said, thinking aloud, still caught in that gaze. “He could fix us some tea… to help us sleep, that is…”

He heard Kalden chuckle drily at that, getting to his feet so he could tower over Cicero. “I won’t take further advantage of your friend’s hospitality. But, I appreciate you thinking of me.”

Again Cicero wondered, _how?_ How could this goodhearted man bear so much loss, so much pain, without letting it turn him cold?

“We ought to try and get some sleep, I suppose,” Kalden continued. “Good night, Cicero. And… thank you. I should be turning in.”

He’d turned to go, taking only a few steps before Cicero spoke, unable to stop himself.

“Alone?”

Kalden froze in place as efficiently as if Cicero had Stunned him. He turned, slowly, to give Cicero a suspicious look.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Alone.”

“I-I only mean…” Cicero swallowed. What _had_ he meant, exactly? “With what happened to… I mean, Raz…” His thoughts were jumbled, getting lost, but Kalden seemed to relax a bit, waiting for Cicero to gather himself together.

“After… after Cyrus… I used to have nightmares about it. What had happened to him…” Cicero’s throat grew tight, and he shook his head, not willing to get sucked into that particular vortex tonight. He’d never seen Cyrus’s body, left alone with his imagination to picture what had happened to his little brother. But it was a chapter in his life that had never found its closure, not even now. No Song had been sung in the hall for Cyrus; and now Cicero could all but see his brother’s dream of peace withering on a branch that would never come to fruit. “I felt as if I were… dying, from some terrible illness. I’d never felt more alone in my life…”

Cicero could feel the sympathy in Kalden’s gaze, even in the dim light.

“What are you _saying,_ Cicero?”

He drew a deep breath, trying not to cringe at his lack of finesse.

“I’m saying that it’s harder to feel alone when someone’s with you. I suppose I’m… I’m offering company.”

He almost expected Kalden to laugh in his face, or to shrug him off, return to his own chamber. But he didn’t. Instead, Kalden hugged his arms closer to his chest as though trying to protect himself.

“And you… have no objection?” he said, his face twisting strangely. “To sharing your bed with a talios?”

He’d said it softly, so the others might not hear through their doors, and his voice stayed even enough; but Cicero could practically taste the fear hidden in those words. He straightened his spine.

“I have only the purest of intentions, Mariner,” he said in his haughtiest, White Spire-est voice. He couldn’t keep himself from flushing, however. He hoped that Kalden couldn’t see, in the dim light. “I trust you do as well?”

Kalden visibly relaxed at that, even chuckling a little.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Inspettore,” he said, adopting the same formal tones. “All right, then. After you.”

Cicero nodded, leading the way into his chamber. He could feel Kalden’s eyes on the back of his head, thought he could feel an aura emanating from Vasco’s room as well, but he kept walking. He hadn’t much fancied going to bed alone with his thoughts anyway, after a day like this. It only made sense to have company, didn’t it?

Kalden shut the door behind him, and Cicero made to take off his boots, unhooking his cape from its place on his shoulder. He could hear Kalden in the darkness, too, fumbling with his clothing, his gauntlets making a gentle clunk on Cicero’s bedroom floor. Cicero climbed into bed still clad in tunic and breeches, and he was almost relieved to see that Kalden still had his robes, getting under the covers on the bed’s other side.

“You don’t kick in your sleep, do you?” he whispered, reaching for the candle.

“No.” There was a shuffle as Kalden settled in. “Ah, Jax… Jaxus used to tell me I snore, though.”

Cicero found that strangely endearing, and he found himself smiling as he blew out the candle.

“I could sleep through a barrage,” he said, pulling the covers up to his chin. “I’ll be fine.”

Kalden didn’t respond. He was lying on his back, studying the shadows on the ceiling, and Cicero found himself absently watching him, studying his profile even in the dimness of the room. It was a cool night, but it was warm, lying beside Kalden. The man’s body was an incredible source of heat. Cicero might have been tempted to lie atop him like a lizard sunning itself, if it wouldn’t have gone against his promise to be a gentleman.

“You’ll be all right, Kalden,” he felt compelled to say. “This… what Razitof started… we’ll finish it. Both of us, together.”

He simply heard Kalden sigh in reply. Cicero looked over to see if the Mariner had fallen asleep, but he still looked deep in thought.

“I know,” he said. There was a long pause. Then—

“I do not deserve your kindness,” Kalden said, so quietly that Cicero almost missed it. It bit at Cicero that Kalden – kind, gentle Kalden, guardian of a home full of waifs – might say such a thing.

“Very few have ever earned it,” he replied, and Kalden turned to look at him. Cicero rolled onto his stomach, folding his head under his arms, still looking at Kalden. “It’s not something I dole out lightly, Kalden.”

Kalden nodded slowly in understanding, and silence fell between them once more. Kalden lost in thoughts he did not yet feel compelled to share with Cicero. Cicero, thinking of the chime on the Azrus legacy branch, the one he’d tied the Sunskull bird to.

 _You have given me hope_ , Kalden had told him, just that afternoon. Immediately before everything had gone so sour. Was he presuming too much to think that this man, who had been a stranger three days prior, still felt thusly about him?

“Kalden?”

The other man’s eyelids, which had been drooping, peeked open. Small half-moons, shining in the darkness.

“Hm...?”

“Do you… remember what you said about me?” Cicero inched closer to the other man’s warmth. “When you… gave me your gift?”

He felt, rather than saw, the other man nod. “Of course.”

His hand formed a fist beneath the pillow. “Do you… still think that? About me?”

In a span of a couple of hours, Cicero had managed to completely botch their investigation. The man they’d meant to rescue, ending up dead. He’d had no way of knowing whether it was too late to help Raz, and yet… and yet, it had been his responsibility to find him. To bring him home to Kalden.

And he’d _failed_.

How could Kalden stand to look at him, when he’d broken his promise so spectacularly?

He felt Kalden shift on the bed, and he opened his eyes to see Kalden turning toward him, rolling onto his side to face him. 

“Of course,” he repeated. He could feel one of Kalden’s hands resting on his cheek. “ _Cicero_. Of _course_.”

It was so… so gracious, so good of him, and Cicero couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by it. He’d all but forgotten, while wasting away in the countryside, how corrupt the Citte was, how hopeless so many of its citizens were. Despair lingered in the streets, in the cries of babes in their mothers’ arms, in the faces of those who made a life here.

In every face, but one.

He burrowed deeper into Kalden’s arms, winding his own arms around the other man’s middle. He let the other man’s warmth envelop him, shielding him from his self-doubt, even if only for a moment. And that feeling of protection, of safety, strengthened his own resolve, in light of his old friend’s threats. Kalden had a light inside him that was precious, a beacon that cut through the Citte’s shadows.

Cicero vowed, that night in Kalden’s arms, to protect that light.

No matter the cost.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not super happy with the new title, but for those curious, I took it from a title track on the OST. It's a gorgeous, sad tune that makes me feel a lot of things. I listened to it a lot when writing this.
> 
> This game means a lot to me for a lot of reasons, and I think I found it at the perfect time in my life. Love each other. Support each other. Help one another keep the faith. I love you. 
> 
> [Come visit me on Tumblr](http://phoenixrei.tumblr.com) if you feel so moved. <3


End file.
